


paper rings

by kate_button



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy Hargrove Lives, Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Love Letters, M/M, POV Alternating, Post-Season/Series 03, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:26:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kate_button/pseuds/kate_button
Summary: He shoves his hands in his pockets cause it really is freezing, and his fingers find a folded-up piece of paper, soft around the edges. He pulls it out and unfolds it and it's starting to wear through along the folds, little empty spaces where the corners have been rubbed down over the years - theyears- by Steve's fingers because this is Steve's jacket and this, he recognizes this. Knows every word of it, the funny way he trails his y's, the way some of the letters connect to the next. Remembers vividly the day he put them down, on this paper, folded it up just as it's folded now, and slipped it into this pocket.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 12
Kudos: 184





	paper rings

His lighter is dead. He’s got the cigarette between his lips but his lighter, his _stupid fucking lighter_ just sparks and sparks and won’t fucking catch and he doesn’t need much, just needs to get the goddamn thing lit, that’s all, just needs to get some smoke in his lungs before the world crushes them, needs to make some space there so he doesn’t _die_.

He knows he’s not gonna die. Not from not getting this cigarette lit, anyway. It’ll probably be monsters. That’s what got Billy.

He tries the lighter one last time and it doesn’t work, of course it doesn’t, so he chucks it out the window and into the street. He rests his forehead on the steering wheel for just a second, then he twists around to see if there’s a book of matches on the floor of his back seat or something. 

He finds a lighter in the pocket of his crumpled up jacket. Billy had been the last one to wear it. It’s Billy’s lighter. 

There’s a piece of paper there, too. Steve’s hands shake a little as he unfolds it, as he lights his smoke with Billy’s lighter. 

_Harrington-_

Steve’s throat closes up. His chest aches.

_When I first got dragged out here and dumped in this shithole town I thought it was gonna kill me. It was pretty bad - still is pretty bad - but I gotta be honest, your ass goes a long way. There’s not much here but there is your pretty ass and your pretty mouth and I guess you’re not so bad, you know? I guess it’s not so bad. You’re alright, is what I’m saying. Or not saying, because I’m too much of a pussy to tell you to your face, I guess. But I wanted to tell you._

_Come find me when you read this, okay? Put me outta my misery._

It’s not signed. It doesn’t need to be.

He’s out of tears. He folds the letter up and shoves it back in his pocket and stares out the windshield without blinking until his eyes burn. He smokes his cigarette down to the filter, until it’s hot and collapsed between his fingers, and then he flicks it out the window and lights another. 

And then another. 

-

It's cold and it's early and Billy's sleepy but they're out of smokes and Steve, Steve just looks so soft and so good and so peaceful and Billy absolutely refuses to wake him, ever, for any reason other than fire or impending doom. Not now. Not knowing just how hard-won every minute of sleep Steve manages really is. 

He pulls on his jeans and his boots, bleary-eyed, pulls on a hoodie and grabs a jacket off the hook by the door and slips out into the morning to shuffle the two blocks to the gas station. Figures he'll pick Steve up a doughnut while he's at it, maybe a cup of coffee cause it's shitty and Steve bitches about it but he knows the taste of gas station coffee reminds him of the summer after he came back when everything was shiny and bright and they both felt fucking high for two months while they drove around the country with the windows down and the radio up and touched whenever they felt like it. 

He shoves his hands in his pockets cause it really is freezing, and his fingers find a folded-up piece of paper, soft around the edges. He pulls it out and unfolds it and it's starting to wear through along the folds, little empty spaces where the corners have been rubbed down over the years - the _years_ \- by Steve's fingers because this is Steve's jacket and this, he recognizes this. Knows every word of it, the funny way he trails his y's, the way some of the letters connect to the next. Remembers vividly the day he put them down, on this paper, folded it up just as it's folded now, and slipped it into this pocket. The words swim on the page and it doesn't matter because he doesn't need to read them, already knows what they say and what they don't say and what he meant. Steve must have known. It's here, after all, still here in the pocket of his jacket after all this time. He wonders how many times Steve's read it, if he knows the words forward and backward and how many tears he shed to them and he's so fucking grateful, feels so incredibly lucky that he got a second chance, a chance to see this through.

He folds the paper up and puts it back in Steve’s pocket. Swipes the back of his hand across his eyes. Needs that smoke now.

He gets coffee and doughnuts and cigarettes and Steve's only half awake when he gets back, hair sticking up all funny with a sleepy little smile on his mouth and he wrinkles his nose when Billy holds out the coffee, takes a sip and makes a face and says ‘you know i hate this shit’ and Billy says ‘I know you do’ and kisses him on the forehead and says ‘drink up’ and Steve takes a sip and sighs and says ‘thanks, Billy’ and Billy shrugs and says ‘I love you’, like it's a reason, like it's an answer, and Steve rolls his eyes and says ‘if you _really_ loved me you'd have gotten me a-' and Billy throws the little bag in his lap, shrugs out of Steve's jacket, careful that the letter stays where it's always been, 'a doughnut, wow, he really does love me' and then 'you wore my jacket?' and Billy kicks off his shoes and crawls into Steve's lap and says 'he really does love you,' kisses him, puts his hands on his waist, makes him shiver cause his hands are cold and Steve's still soft and sleep-warm 'I wore your jacket.'

**Author's Note:**

> [prompt fill - original here](https://un-buttoned.tumblr.com/post/616521863646068736/hi-there-your-writing-is-amazing-idk-if-you-take)
> 
> [i'm on tumblr.](https://un-buttoned.tumblr.com/)


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